Zayn brings me into one of the private rooms, drawing the thick, red velvet curtain shut. There is a small, black table with a black leather wrap around couch. The only lighting is a dim, almost bluish hued lamp hanging overhead. It would be calming if I wasn't so tense. I sit with Zayn across from me. He seems relaxed and tells me to wait here, dashing from the room.
I sit, patiently for the most part, before my thoughts start to run wild. What was all that about? Does he think bringing me into a private room will make me more open to doing other things? I thought I had made myself very clear on that.
Before I can think any further, the velvet curtain is pulled back and Zayn appears across from me in the room once more. He sets something on the table. Sitting there is now a small plastic baggy, almost harmless unless you look closely.
Inside sits a green substance, unmistakable to the human eye. Cramped in the bag is weed and Zayn looking as pleased as can be. I scoff. I don't know which is worse, him groping at my body or weed?
He starts to open the bag, already rolling one up quickly and brings it to his lips. Once he digs out his lighter, it ignites and a white smoke drifts from his thin lips. Quickly the small room starts filling with the repulsive smell of weed and I scrunch my nose.
"Here," Zayn exhales and goes to hand me the blunt. My eyes flicker from his extended hand to his eyes. I feel my hands grow much sweatier, if physically possible, and my body becomes rigid. Shaking my head repeatedly, my hair whips back and forth rather violently.
Zayns hand slacks and he rests it on the small table. In annoyance, he sighs and leans back and inhales the drug. "You know Jo," he exhales the white smoke, "you're not making this date very fun."
I stare at him as he appears to believe that was the right thing to say. Zayn yet again brings it to his lips and breathes the smoke out, his mouth forming perfect O's. After almost a minute of him smoking and my glaring, Zayn finally seems to take in that I am not satisfied.
"Will you stop that staring, please? Honestly, lighten up and take a smoke. It won't harm ya, I promise." Zayn tries to offer me the rolled up drug one more time. And I take it. But I immediately regret it for the stench is awful. I feel sweat dripping down my brow and I don't know if it's from my own nerves or the heat of the building.
I hold it lightly in my fingers, as if too much pressure will cause it to explode at any second. Frowning, I glance at Zayn. He gives me a look as if trying to say "do it, you pansy!" I gulp and bring it close to my chapped lips. The butt barely touches before I pull it back.
Zayn groans and he rubs a hand over his face, through his dark hair. Giving an apologetic look, I reach to give him it back. He leans forward to take it but doesn't bring it to his own lips. Zayn gives me a look that makes me feel as if I have deeply disappointed him. I guess in a way I have. But why should I care, it's perfectly okay not to be pulled into peer pressure. I should be proud of myself for not allowing his presence and words make me do something I don't wish.
"Josie, you were so close. Just take a smoke, this is frustrating. Do you have a stick up your ass or something?" Zayn could easily be mistaken for speaking to a toddler instead of a teenage girl. His voice his soft but laced thickly with annoyance. He's treating me like a child.
Quickly, my face hardens and I release a harsh breath of air. Standing, I give him once more glare before storming out from behind the curtain. I am immediately in a swarm of sticky bodies and I struggle to fight my way through. I don't stop once I reach the steps I first came down. Not caring if Zayn is coming for me or not, I rush up the steps and pass the bouncer at the top.
I find myself pushing through even more people before I spot the door. Once outside, it's like a new world. The crisp, clean air is welcoming and fresh. The dim sky hangs over head with a few scattered stars. Feeling the cool breeze against my sweaty body is beyond satisfying. Having no one pushing against me or someone elbowing me is gratifying. The sound of cars honking in the distance and the familiar hum of the city fill my ears. Few people linger around the club and I stand near the curb. Not many cars drive by so I begin walking to a busier street in hopes to catch a taxi.
